Like a Friend
by Mandy Kay Miller
Summary: Anukkah feels like she has to protect her family, and gets a close friendship with Peter along the way. For once, a fic that introduces a new female character and is not a romance.
1. Peter

A/N: I really hope this one is a little different than all the Swing Kids fics out there, but I'm not sure. I hope you like it!

Anukkah's name is said just like Hanukkah without the first "h."

My name is Anukkah. I come from a fairly normal-sized family. Me, my mother and father, my twin Luis, and my young sister Grace. We are Jewish both by blood and faith, which made the Nazi threat seem even nearer. I was fourteen years old at the time it all took place.

I guess I was young, but I was considered by my family and myself as an adult. But then… maybe we seemed older because the Nazis had somehow forced us to become more mature. To deal with things we would normally never have to deal with.

Anyway, my mother had been pestering Luis and me to get a job. Nothing too big, but enough to at least help buy supper. I didn't mind. I was actually eager to grow up and get a job of my own, and help my family.

We lived only three blocks away from the Café Bismark and I'd always wanted to visit it, but never had. I decided I could be a waitress or something there, or at least ask, so I went in and was blown away. I'd always assumed it was a more quiet, proper place, but when the doors opened, a catchy beat and lively crowd greeted me.

Overwhelmed and amazed, I stared at this place. This… this heaven. And accidentally bumped into someone.

"Hey," he said and turned to face me.

"I'm so sorry!" I said. "I wasn't looking and… I…"

The cute boy smiled. "It's OK. Don't worry about it. I'm Peter." He held out his hand for me to shake it.

I did. "Anna."

"Have you been here before, because I don't recognize you."

"Um, no. I'm here because I was wondering about a job."

"A job?" He seemed amused. "You can't really get much of a job here. Closest thing to that is playing in the band, and they get so little it isn't quite fit to be called "pay." They only get what the crowd'll give them."

I don't think he expected me to take his band suggestion seriously, but I did. "Hmm… the band?"

He chuckled. "Well, you kind of need an instrument…"

"I do," I said. "I mean, I have one. I play the clarinet."

"It's kind of hard to swing on the clarinet."

"If Goodman can do it, I can," I replied, referring to the best jazz musician in history.

"Are you comparing yourself to Benny Goodman?" he asked. "I don't think anyone is quite that good."

"Just the same, he isn't the only one."

"Maybe you have a point. But you'll have to try out."

I smiled. "I think you're lying."

"Why would I lie?"

"Because. I doubt that many people would want to make the music when they can dance to it."

"Speaking of which, do you want to?"

I was so shocked I almost fell over. "What?" I asked.

"Do you want to dance?"

"I can't really. I have trouble waltzing, much less swing dancing. I never have before. To be honest, I've never even really _seen_ it until now."

"Too bad. It's really fun."

"Say, is this place legal?"

Peter hesitated. "Well, not according to Hitler…"

"In other words, no?"

"But according to him, being born to the wrong parents isn't legal. You think his laws actually apply? This is just dancing. People having a good time."

"Just the same, I'd rather not risk being arrested. Maybe I'll look somewhere else." I turned to go but Peter grabbed my arm.

"A minute ago you were determined to show me you could swing," he said. "Think, Anna. Will you ever get a job as good as this? It's so laid-back. So _fun_."

"Probably not."

"Try it once. Please?"

I sighed. "When are auditions?"

He smiled. "Right now, if you want."

"I need my clarinet."

"In that case, how about tomorrow? Around 8?"

"That sounds great," I replied.

"Good. Do you want to sit down and listen? Maybe eat a little something?"

I wanted to, but I was suddenly afraid. Afraid of Peter, maybe. That we was a total stranger and I had no reason to meet him anywhere, especially since he looked about 16, 17, and I was younger and much, much smaller. Afraid of my parents, what they would think if I was risking my life like this. But afraid mostly that the Nazis would come in and arrest me. That they would take me away and I'd never see my family again. My family that I loved so much.

"I'd like to – really – but I don't think I can."

"Why not?" he asked.

"I just… CAN'T!" I snapped, not liking the way he seemed to be pressing me. "I… have to go." Ashamed of how I'd spoken to him, I rushed home, my face in my hands.


	2. Close Call

"Anukkah," a voice said, gently shaking me awake. "Anna?"

My eyes fluttered open and revealed Luis, my brother, looking down at me, his blue eyes showing concern. "What?" I asked. "What time is it?"

"10:30 in the morning. Mother's worried about you. She wondered if you saw the Gestapo or something."

"No, no," I said.

"Good. Are you all right?"

"Fine," I replied, sitting up. "I think I found a job."

"That's great! I didn't have any luck, but I'm praying that I'll get something today."

I stood, stretched, and yawned. Luis and I walked into the kitchen where mother was doing the breakfast dishes.

"Oh, Anukkah!" she said, drying her hands on a towel. She walked up to me and gave me an affectionate hug. "I was worried about you. You were crying last night when you stormed in here. I wanted to comfort you, but your father insisted I let you sleep. Is everything all right?"

"Yes, yes," I said. "I may have found a job. I must go back tonight to know for sure."

"Oh, honey!" she said. "That's wonderful! Your father fears that Hitler is going to pass that dreadful law that Jews can't own businesses."

"What did you tell him?" Luis asked, sitting down at the table.

"I told him to but his business in God's hands." She turned and pulled out some silverware. "Anna, you must be starving."

"No, actually," I replied. "I'm not."

"Are you sure, dear?"

"I'm sure. Where's Grace?"

Luis shook his head. "Sarah's house."

"Alone?" I demanded.

Luis looked nervously at mom when her back was turned, and put his finger along his neck as if silently saying "cut it out." But then he nodded.

"MOM!" I exclaimed. "You can't let Grace go out alone! With no one to protect her and the HJs all over the streets and… and-"

Mother gasped and turned to Luis. "She went alone? You told me Paul was taking her!"

Paul was Luis's best friend. He was fairly nice, and the best thing about him was that he wasn't Jewish by blood, and his faith was a secret, not even known to his own family.

"He never showed up," Luis replied quietly, as if ashamed.

"YOU SENT YOUR 11-YEAR OLD SISTER OUT ALONE?!" mother raged. "What were you thinking? She may never come back! How could you-"

"The HJs are in school right now," Luis said. "And Sarah's house isn't far…"

"Go get her!" mother said. "_Now."_

"I have to find a job!" he replied.

"_I_ will," I said quickly. I put my Star of David necklace under my shirt and started out the door. When I opened it, Paul stood there.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," I replied. "Luis can't talk. He's heading out to find a job."

"Can I come in?"

"Of course." I backed up to let him in and was about to leave when he grabbed my arm, yanked me back in, and closed the door.

"You wouldn't believe all the HJs out there," he said. "One of them asked me a million questions before he let me walk here and I'm not even Jewish."

"But you _do_ look a little-"

Paul shook his head. "It doesn't matter. _You_ look a _lot_. Don't look them in the eye. Don't look suspicious. And whatever you do, _don't_ go to the grocery store. They're swarming around it."

I got a little nervous. "All right. How do I look?"

He reached behind me and unlatched my necklace. He put it in my open hand. "And don't wear that. If it becomes visible by accident, you'll be dragged off before you know it."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. There's actually one right outside the house. He's looking for the smallest reason to kill someone, I just know it. Ignore him and act natural."

"All right. Luis is in the kitchen. And don't tell mother about all the HJs. She'll worry."

Paul nodded. "All right. Good luck."

"Thank you."

I nervously opened the door and stepped out. I immediately saw the HJ that Paul had told me about. He was leaning against the doorpost, looking casual. We didn't have the Star of David painted on our door. We were trying to keep it as secret as possible. But if they found out that we lied to them, our fate would be worse than anyone else's would.

I could feel his eyes on me as I walked in the opposite direction. I heard steady footsteps behind me. Was that him?

Don't look back, I told myself. That may classify as looking nervous, and I couldn't do that. I couldn't make one single slip, or-

My necklace! It wiggled out of my loose hand and fell to the sidewalk. What now? Should I run away, or turn back to get it?

I turned around and bent down to pick it up. A black shoe stepped on it and didn't move. I stood to find myself face-to-face with the HJ.

"Excuse me," I said. "Would you be so kind as to move your foot?"

He looked down at it. "That wouldn't happen to be a Jewish sign, would it?"

"It's not mine," I lied. "It was my friend's necklace. She got dragged off by the Gestapo. It's all I have left of her."

"Did you know that harboring Jews is a crime?"

"I did not "harbor" her!" I spat. "I talked with her! Or is talking with them a crime, too?"

"It could be," he replied. "I'll be sure to check."

"In the meantime, will you let me have it back?"

He bent down and picked it up himself. He dangled it in front of my face, taunting me. But I would not play his game. I would not swipe at it and give him that satisfaction. I stood there.

"Are you done?" I asked impatiently.

"Not quite."

"Then hurry up. I'm in a sort of rush."

"Where are you going?"

My hand flew up and grabbed the necklace before he could yank it away. But he still held fast. "Where I am going is none of your business."

"Is the question so hard? I said; Where. Are. You. Going."

"And I told you that you had no right to ask me that," I replied hotly.

"You're very lucky you're a girl, or you would be dead by now."

"So talking with a Jew is a crime, but killing one is not?"

He chucked. "You'll make a good servant to a worthy Nazi official, I'm sure. So much spirit. Remember, Jewish girl, I know where you live." With that, he punched me in the stomach and stalked off.

A/N: did he go too easy on her? I think he did. Oh, well…


	3. The HJ

I reached Sarah's house soon after that and knocked on her door. Her father answered. "Anna," he said. "What is it? Has something happened?" He moved aside so that I could come in and shut the door behind me.

"No," I said. "I was just coming by to make sure Grace made it here all right."

His face showed his panic. "She never arrived."

"What?" I demanded. I felt tears coming. "She- Luis sent her here. But if she never made it..." I began to sob. "There are HJs all over the streets. She must have..." I couldn't bear to finish. Grace was gone, because of a careless mistake that my brother made.

Then there was another knock on the door. He looked through the small hole in the door and turned to me. "It's one of them," he said. "I'll tell him no one's home. Find Sarah and hide with her." I nodded and went out of sight.

I was about to go up the stairs when I heard a familiar voice. "Let me go!" she screamed. It was Grace!

Forgetting about Sarah, I rushed back to the door to see an HJ holding my sister tightly around the wrists. She had a red cheek where she'd been punched and a little bit of blood coming from her nose. The HJ himself had a bleeding lip.

"Do you know this child?" he asked.

"Yes," Sarah's father replied. "She is a friend of the family."

"Grace!" I said, running up to them. I turned to the HJ. "Let her go!" I said. "Now! Or else-"

"I'm not going to hurt her," he said. "Please. May I come in?"

Sarah's father hesitated, then moved aside. "Yes."

The HJ entered, shut the door, and then released Grace. "I had no intention of harming her," he said. "but she is quite forceful and has a good kick." The HJ wiped some blood off his lip. "But I needed to restrain her. I'm sorry."

"Of course you are," I said sarcastically, wrapping my arms protectively around Grace. "Goodbye."

The HJ looked at me curiously. "I just saved her life. It was obvious that an HJ would have grabbed her sooner or later. You're just lucky it was me. Anyone else would have sent her away."

"And what do _you_ gain?" I asked suspiciously.

"A clean conscience. Don't let her out alone again. I might not be there next time." With that, he left.

Grace stuck her tongue out at the door. "He hit me," she said. "He-"

"It's OK," I said. "Why don't you go find Sarah?" She nodded and left. Then I turned to Sarah's father. "Thank you. If you'll call our house when they're done playing or talking or whatever, someone will come to pick her up."

"I'll bring her myself," he replied. "I wouldn't want you to have to come back again. Goodbye."

"Thank you again, goodbye."

A/N: please, PLEASE review, I'm dying!!!!!! I promise it'll get better… promise!


	4. Thomas and Auditions

A/N: I'm sorry, i forgot to mention this slightly screwed-up thing: this takes place maybe in the middle of the movie. Thomas and Peter are HJs but Thomas isn't bad yet, and Arvid's still alive. Forget about Evey and all those girls, they aren't in this fic.

Clarinet in hand, I left for Cafe Bismarck that night. When I entered, the same music played loudly. I spotted Peter and some other guys sitting at a table and walked up to them.

"Hi," I said. They looked at me.

Peter smiled. "Hi. Fellas, this is Anna. These are my friends Arvid, Otto, and Thomas."

I stared at Thomas. He looked so familiar somehow. Then I saw dried blood on his lip and knew at once. "Are you-"

He nodded. "The one you met this morning."

"Shouldn't you be off killing innocent people?" I asked.

"Hey, hey, don't get so defensive," he said. "Don't forget I saved that kid's life."

"Grace. Her name is Grace. Because she was near death when she was born, and it is only by the Grace of God that she lives to this day," I said, purposely talking about God only to make him angry. But he showed no signs of anger. In fact, he laughed.

"I'm only a little bit-"

"A little bit?" I demanded. "You either _ARE _an HJ or you _AREN'T_."

Thomas pointed to the boy across from him. "But Peter's-"

"How about those auditions?" Peter interrupted.

I studied Thomas hard. "Yes," I said. "Where are we having them?"

"In a practice room," Peter replied. "Come on." He took my hand and led me away. We sat down in a private room with three chairs and three stands in it.

"How do you know Thomas?" he asked as I was putting my clarinet together.

"He brought my little sister to her friend's house," I replied. Then, added, "She was hurt. And near tears."

"I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it. He was to keep the act up to make them think he's one of them. But he's a true Swing Kid at heart."

"Acting is one thing. Abuse is another."

"Well, I guess she can be a little insensitive at times, too. When he sees a person, he doesn't see them as a mother or daughter or sister to someone else. He sees them as just another person."

"I thought they saw us as rats," I muttered.

Peter shook his head while I wetted my reed. "Thomas isn't like the rest of the HJs. His parents made him join. No other reason." (A/N: Peter is bending the truth. I realize that PETER's mom made him join and Thomas did it just for fun, but he isn't telling her that. Not yet. ;-)

"I see," I said. It was true. I understood his problem, but I wasn't entirely sure I believed it. All HJs were the same... right? "Let's start."

"OK. How about chromatics?"

I played them as best I could which wasn't too bad. I made a few small mistakes, but nothing more.

"Good," Peter said. He grabbed two sheets of music and put them in front of me. "Play them," he said simply.

I hesitated. "I'm not the best at sight-reading."

"That's OK," he said. "You can take it slow if you want. And you don't need to play it flawlessly. Just impress me. Make me BELIEVE that you deserve to be compared to Benny."

I smiled. "What are your standards?"

"Don't argue. Just play the piece."

I played it fairly well. I was on beat, obeyed the key signature, and played the correct notes. I finished and smiled, confident that I did well and proud of my sight-reading abilities.

"No way will you EVER be able to swing if you play like that," he said.

"What?" I demanded. "That was near perfect!"

"Swing isn't about the notes or the beat. It's about the feeling that goes along with them. If Goodman played the exact same stuff he usually does, but without feeling, he wouldn't be famous at all. Play it again. With heart."

I breathed deeply. Heart. I could do that.

I played it again with as much "heart" as I could. It was obviously good enough.

"That'll work," he said. "The next one is easy. You'll have no trouble with it, I'm sure."

I stared at the sheet in front of me. It was wrong. It was all wrong. "This is a joke, right?" I asked. "This... this isn't swing!"

"You're right. It's the stuff they play when the Nazis storm in. You already know this place is illegal, so when they come in, we play other things. Things like this."

I played "Rollicking Reeds" for him and once I finished, he told me, 

"Great. I'll let you in on one condition."

"Hold it," I said. "Are you the head of the band or what?"

Peter shook his head. "No, I'm not even in it. But no one is really the head. They _do_ have a director, but for the most part, all of us work together. And if I tell them you're good, they'll trust my judgment."

"So... what's that condition?" I asked, getting excited. He called me "good!" Now I would have a job that I could work at, and I'd be having fun and pleasing my parents at the same time. AND seeing Peter, who I was growing fond of.

"You come here every other night for a lesson. We can work on this music."

"OK. So I'm in?"

"Yes."

I leapt forward and gave him a hug. "Thank you, Peter! This means so much to me!" And it did. Because for the first time since Hitler had come into power, I was happy. I was truly, purely happy.


	5. The Star of David

The next day I headed to the music store to buy my first sheet music of "Sing, Sing, Sing." I had it on record, but wanted to be able to play it on the clarinet. When I walked in, I saw Thomas – in uniform – talking to someone. Actually, he was flirting with her to be more exact. I wouldn't believe it. Here was an HJ acting like a real human!

He must have felt my stare, because he turned at looked at me. He quickly said goodbye to the girl and approached me.

"I think you got the wrong impression of me yesterday," he said. "I-" He stopped dead when his eyes fell on the yellow Star of David sown to my shirt, partly covered by my jacket. "You're Jewish," he said.

I pulled my coat around me to cover it. "Yes," I said quietly. "I am."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?" I demanded.

"That… well, I have to arrest you."

I backed away. Maybe he _wasn't_ a real human after all. "Don't touch me," I said. "If you arrest me, you should arrest yourself, too. Going to Swing parties and-"

"Liking music is one thing. Being Jewish is another."

"Open your eyes!" I exclaimed. The store owner looked at me like maybe I was crazy. That I was making a scene. I guess I was, but I didn't care. "They're exactly the same thing!"

"Don't raise your voice to me," he said. "This isn't my fault. I _have_ to. You don't understand."

"I do!" I cried. "I understand perfectly, you two-faced creep!"

"Anna, shush!" he hissed. "If you start something, I'll have to arrest you for sure."

"Then arrest me now and prevent it," I dared. Then, in a lower voice, added, "Or let me go."

Thomas looked at me for a minute, then sighed. "Come with me."

"No."

"Don't make me drag you!" he threatened. He grabbed my wrist and I winced. "Now come on." He pulled me out of the store and down the street.

"Where are we going?" I asked suddenly. He pulled me into an ally and whipped out a knife.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, my voice now shrill. He shook his head.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Anna," he said as he handed the knife to me. "Cut it off."

"What?"

"Your star. Cut the stitches and take it off."

"I'll be arrested if I go anywhere without my star."

"You won't," he assured me. "Not if you're with me. _I'll_ be arrested if I'm seen with a Jew."

"Who said I was going to be seen with you?"

Thomas paused. Maybe he'd never been rejected before, or maybe there was another reason why he looked so flabbergasted.

"All right," he said. He took the knife from me. "Fine."

"Hey!"

We turned and saw two teenage guys looking at us, angry as ever. Luis and Paul.

"What?" Thomas asked.

"Leave her alone." They walked up to Thomas. He was a full head taller than them, but it still looked like a fair fight considering there was two of them. And I knew that Luis and Paul were good fighters.

"I wasn't-" Thomas looked at the knife in his hand and realized that it looked pretty clear that he was going to hurt me, had we not been interrupted. Especially since he was in his uniform, and my star was showing clearly now. He quickly put it away. "I wasn't going to harm her in any way."

Paul kept his steady glare on Thomas while Luis turned to me. "Anna?"

With one word, I could start a fight between them, but on the other hand, I could also prevent it. I knew Thomas hadn't intended to hurt me, but it dawned on me that I could get him back for what he did to Grace.

But Thomas was better equipped for a fight. He had a club, a knife, and useful HJ training. How could I live with myself if Luis was severely hurt? Or died?

"No," I said. I looked at Thomas. "Don't stoop to the Nazi level."

"That's what I love about you, Anna," Luis said. "You always have your head on straight." He led me away and Paul followed behind us.


	6. Emil

That night I went to the Café Bismark. When I walked in, the band was playing unusual music and I noticed all of the HJs scattered here and there. I walked over to a table where peter, Otto, Thomas, and a girl sat.

"Anna," Otto said. "You don't know Helga, do you?"

"No," I replied, sitting down.

"Helga is Arvid's girlfriend. Helga, this is Anna. She recently joined the band. Maybe we'll hear her play tomorrow."

Helga smiled at me. "You'll love playing in the band."

"I don't doubt that," I replied.

"Peter," Thomas said. "We have to get out of here before the HJs recognize us."

I looked at Peter. "What?"

"Well…" Peter looked uncomfortable.

"So the HJs won't realize that they're Swing Kids," Otto put in.

"But… Peter, you're not one of them. Are you?"

"I'm sorry, Anna."

I stood, angry at once. He'd lied to me. About a very important issue. "I should turn you in!"

Thomas was on his feet in a flash. "Anna, please! Don't-"

But I had no intention of being quiet. I was angry. Very angry. "Swinging HJs?! How could you?! You lied to me, Peter. You _lied!"_

Peter and Thomas didn't take the time to quiet me. They dashed away just in time. A few HJs made their way over to our table, but didn't notice Peter and Thomas running away. Luckily.

They stood there for a ,minute, as if wondering what to do. Then, finally, one said, "How about a dance, ladies." He didn't say it like a question. He was ordering us to dance. Commanding.

Helga stood and two of them grabbed our hands and brought us to the dance floor.

"I have something that belongs to you," he said as we waltzed. He looked so familiar…

"You… you have my necklace."

"Well, I have _a_ necklace," he said casually. "However, I thought it belonged to someone else. A friend who was dragged away by the Gestapo, maybe."

"Give it to me," I ordered.

He chuckled. "You aren't one to be giving orders, Jewish girl."

"I am _NOT_ Jewish," I replied.

"I'm trained to recognize them when I see them. You think I can't see right through you? Though I must admit, you're a very good liar. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were telling the truth."

"I told you, she was my friend. It's all I have to remember her by. Please give it back."

He stopped dancing and took me to the side. He pulled a silver necklace out of his pocket. "It means a lot to you, then."

"Yes."

"What was her name?"

I thought quickly. "Jennifer."

He raised an eyebrow. "And she was Jewish?"

"Her faith, yes. Now give-"

"And what is _your_ name?"

I tried to think up a quick German name. "Ema." There was silence, when I said, "Don't be rude, now. Tell me _your_ name." I looked at him expectantly.

The HJs began to march out. "I have to go," he said.

"Give me a name or I will call you Hitler's mindless marching robot."

The HJ smiled. "Emil."


End file.
